


Rebound

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:16:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2484299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quarters can’t remember how this started, because if he could, he would find Sawbuck and shoot him back to the right time so he could tell himself, “whatever you do, don’t ask Crowbar how he’s doing.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebound

Quarters can’t remember how this started, because if he could, he would find Sawbuck and shoot him back to the right time so he could tell himself, “whatever you do, don’t ask Crowbar how he’s doing.”

At first it has seemed fine. Crowbar was one of the more tolerable Felt members. He didn’t steal his booze or smokes and as long as he wasn’t shooting up the mansion, he let Quarters do what he wanted. Seemed like they were always running into each other late at night too when the rest of the fuckers had finally passed out and stopped humping each other. Quarters had found a quiet place to drink on a comfy couch up on the top floor where the other fuckers didn’t bother him. Crowbar would wander by with his crowbar on his shoulder and Quarters would stop drinking as hard for long enough to have a quick two exchange with him.

“Pretty quiet?” Crowbar would say and Quarters would nod and respond with a grunt. “Just wrapping up patrol before I hit the sack. Everything good with you?”

“Good,” Quarters would say and Crowbar would nod with satisfaction. “You?”

“Good,” Crowbar would say and Quarters would nod with satisfaction, and then Crowbar would wander off and Quarters would go back to drinking. 

Weeks of this, no matter the whether or how good or bad a heist had gotten. Quarters had gotten used to it, gotten complacent, let his “you?” sound maybe a little genuine instead of him just obviously filling in the blanks of what a conversation was supposed to sound like. So when Crowbar comes up with his shoulders looking a little saggier than usual, he doesn’t remember to not add, “You?” when he reaches his part of the conversation.

“Not so good,” Crowbar says and Quarters realizes his mistake at that exact moment. He takes a seat and rests the crowbar on the coffee table, taking the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a glass uninvited. Though- fuck, maybe he thinks he’s invited? All of those “You?”s made him misunderstand what this was. “Matchsticks and I, uh… well, we’re not in a charm anymore. I knew this was coming. … I knew for a long time.”

“Hmm,” Quarters says, blatantly disinterested. This is not the deal. He didn’t sign up for actually listening to anybody’s problems. If this was one of the other guys, it would be easy - he would just tell them to shut the fuck up and take back his whiskey. But this is Crowbar and he’s the boss, more or less anyway, and he sure as fuck doesn’t want to have to deal directly with the puppet. That thing’s creepy. 

“I guess I should have worked harder to keep things going between us. I just figured… well as long as nobody was gunning for our charm, we’d be okay right? Neither of us had a reason to end it then, and I could get used to all this work and then we’d fix things.” He drinks his whiskey fast and Quarters’ eyes narrow as Crowbar pours himself another. The dumb fuck’s probably already been drinking tonight too. If he throws up any of Quarters’ whiskey because he’s mixing beer and liquor, Quarters is going to pound him into the ground. “But… he came to me today and said that he was tired of waiting and he was ending it. He isn’t even going to charm up with anybody else. He just… didn’t want me anymore.”

“Hmm,” Quarters says, more aggressively disinterested. How long is Crowbar going to go on about it. He tries another tactic. “Good riddance. He’s a fucking idiot. Now you can find somebody else.” 

It doesn’t work. Crowbar just gets all sad and Quarters sighs with frustration. Crowbar doesn’t even notice. “I can’t. I’ll just screw that up too. I’m uncharmable, Quarters. It just doesn’t work for me. I’ve got to start accepting that’s just who I am. And it’s fine. This gang doesn’t function without me around.” 

“We’re fucking fine. Go get laid. You probably just need somebody to fuck you.” It’s about as close to helpful as he comes. And there’s plenty of people in the Felt who’ll suck him like a cheap vacuum. Itchy, Die, Fin (though he always plays it off like he didn’t), the list goes on. 

“I’m not that kind of guy.” Crowbar’s head slips forward and he looks like he just went walking out in the rain for an hour. “Never have been. But… it’s okay. It’s better this way-”

It’s then that Quarters realizes that if he doesn’t derail this now, he’s looking at every single night ending like this. Weeks and weeks of Crowbar pulling up a seat and mournfully telling Quarters about how not getting laid is for the best or something equally shitty and trite. Quarters finishes his glass, sets it down loudly, and then reaches over. Crowbar’s small and it’s easy to pick him up (and ignore the indigent ‘hey!’) and plop him straight into Quarters’ lap. 

“You need a rebound fuck,” Quarters says, getting a hand in the middle of Crowbar’s back to hold him steady as Quarters starts grinding up into him. Crowbar’s pretty good looking, and for a small guy, he’s nice and solid, so it’s easy for Quarters to get hard. “I ain’t going to tell nobody and you won’t either, so let’s just fucking do it while the other assholes aren’t breathing down our necks.” 

“I- fuck, Quarters, I didn’t come here for this. I just wanted to talk,” Crowbar says, pushing a little on Quarters. It’s not as strong as it could be though and with each roll up, he can feel Crowbar’s cock responding. “I just got out of a charm.”

“So? You’re not in one now.” He lets his hand sink lower, grabbing hold of Crowbar’s ass and giving it a squeeze. It’s as solid as the rest of him. He must do squats when he gets up. “You can still talk. I can do this and listen.”

“That sounds like an absolute lie.” Crowbar’s hands are on Quarters’ chest, though they’re not pushing away anymore. He’s clearly considering this, staying still while Quarters grinds against him. After a long moment, he twists to get his drink and finish the second one. Then he sets the glass carefully aside and tentatively pushes back. “It’s… been a long time for me.”

“No shit,” Quarters says and now that Crowbar’s into it, he gets a second hand on him, rutting up against Crowbar. Fuck, he’s solid. His cock’s more used to softer bodies, but he thinks he really likes this, especially how stocky Crowbar is. He wonders if Crowbar’s going to come in his pants. He just might. Hmm. While he thinks, he keeps rubbing up against him. “You two ever fuck?”

“A couple of times, at the start. Uh… not for a long time. I was busy or. He wasn’t in the mood.” Crowbar rocks his hips forward, getting more bold as it goes on. Quarters can feel how hard he’s getting through his pants. “Guess that was a sign. When we first got together, he- well. He rarely kept his hands off of me. I had to start telling him to stop when I was trying to give out orders. Nobody- shit, ah - nobody would have taken me seriously otherwise.”

Quarters grunts out an agreement, only half listening when they’re going at it. Crowbar’s getting red in the face and Quarters knows then and there that he wants to fuck him. It’s not enough just to rub up against him and then get a handjob out of the deal - he wants to fuck his boss so hard that he walks funny tomorrow. “Yeah, nobody. Get your pants off.” 

“What? Why? Oh. No, that’s… not happening. It’s been a long time,” Crowbar quickly says, his eyes going to the bulge in Quarters’ pants, and Quarters just grins. Yeah, he knows. And knowing Crowbar, he’s going to be so fucking tight that it’ll be like his first time all over again. Except Quarters’ can go the distance that Matchsticks never could. “I mean, too long-” 

“So? Not like it’s getting less long.” He starts on Crowbar’s belt, getting it open and then stuffing a hand down the front of his pants to palm Crowbar’s cock. That gets an immediate moan out of him. He’s hard, and when he strokes Crowbar a few times, Quarters can feel how desperate he is. “Unless you want to suck me off?” 

His eyes go back to the bulge, and after a moment, he pushes up into Quarters’ palm. “If I say stop-”

“I’ll stop.” Sure, not like he’s going to push it with Crowbar. But Quarters isn’t worried about being told to stop, not while Crowbar’s this hard. He enjoys manhandling him a little, getting his jacket and shirt off, and then working on his pants until he’s naked except for his socks and the garters hanging loosely from them. Crowbar insists on getting those off, giving Quarters time to work on his own clothes. Maybe they shouldn’t be fucking on the couch in the open, but it’s not like anybody ever goes into this room except for him and Crowbar. 

He’s got some lotion stashed in a bookshelf, since sometimes he likes jerking off up here. That’ll do, and Quarters drops it on the coffee table before dropping his pants and stepping out of them. His cock’s happy to be free, stiffly pushing up and catching Crowbar’s eyes (and Quarters grins as he watches them widen). “Uh… just…. let me have another drink first.” 

Crowbar has another glass of scotch and Quarters just keeps on grinning, pumping some lotion into his hand and kneeling on the couch. He slathers his cock and waits for Crowbar to lie down again before turning him over, onto his stomach. Quarters gets two slick fingers against Crowbar’s ass, rubbing a little before pushing inside. 

Maybe he’s not as gentle as he should be and Crowbar’s fucking tight, but he’s fucked smaller holes before and he knows how to get them open. It’s a breeze once Quarters kneels close behind him and gets his free hand on Crowbar’s cock, stroking him enough to get him to relax. Crowbar turns out to be pretty loud, breathing heavy and moaning as the first finger goes in, quickly followed by a second. 

This bit is kinda nice. Quarters might be willing to put up with some bitching if it means he gets to see Crowbar with his ass in the air, trying hard to keep quiet so nobody overhears. Might be hard to explain to the others why he’s letting Quarters fuck ‘em right out in the open. Quarters just keeps thrusting his fingers in and out until he can’t stand to wait anymore, and then he slides them out and gets right behind Crowbar. He rubs the head of his cock up against Crowbar’s ass, enjoying how everything looks the moment before he pushes in. 

“FUCK,” Crowbar blurts out and Quarters just chuckles, one hand on Crowbar’s hip to keep his ass up in the air and the other on his cock, guiding it as he steadily pushes into Crowbar’s ass. He wasn’t kidding about being tight. Feels like he’s never been fucked at all. Matchsticks was missing out, that’s for sure. Crowbar’s tense all over, but he doesn’t immediately wrap a hand around Crowbar’s cock, not when he wants to feel him squeezing the head of Quarters’ dick. He moans out and the very sound makes Quarters’ want to sink all the way inside of Crowbar. “Oh fuck… fuck…” 

That’s what he likes. Quarters keeps on pushing forward, and when he starts to run into resistance, he finally takes his hand off his shaft and wraps it around Crowbar’s instead, stroking him hard and fast. It gets the exact reaction Quarters is hoping for and while Crowbar’s burying his face in the couch and crying out, he relaxes and Quarters can keep pushing inside of him, burying his cock in that tight ass. 

He takes him slower than he usually would, but this is Crowbar and he doesn’t want to break his boss. Quarters has to be content with careful thrusts in, slowly rocking back and forth. Once he’s in enough, he stops stroking Crowbar so much, letting that hand run up his chest instead and then back down to idly squeeze his cock before wandering elsewhere. He doesn’t usually take his time but there’s something fun about doing it to Crowbar, especially when it turns out he’s amazingly loud in bed. Matchsticks had really fucked this one up. 

“You weren’t kidding, you’re fucking tight,” he finally says when he rocks in and Quarters gets a groan out of Crowbar for his troubles. It’s fucking great. Part of him wishes some of the Felt would wake up and find them, just so they could see how great Crowbar was when he was getting fucked. It was a ton more tolerable than he usually was when he was bossing people around and giving out orders. He wasn’t even telling Quarters how to fuck ‘em or anything - he was just moaning away like a good whore. “Y’want more?”

“F-fuck, I. Don’t know if I can,” he pauses, groans, squeezes even tighter around Quarters. That gets Quarters clacking his beak, not even a little used to how fucking good Crowbar feels around him. He’s fucking hot and just clenching steadily around Quarters, like he wants to pull him in and keep that cock in his ass forever. “C-can handle any more. Fuck, Quarters-” 

“Nah, you can.” Quarters knows he can. Even a small guy like Crowbar can fit most of Quarters’ dick. It just takes time. Quarters brings his hand up and drags it over Crowbar’s back, grinning as he feels the muscles all flexing under his skin. Some of the other guys are nice but they’re usually pretty skinny with nothing, or flabby. Crowbar works out and it shows.

He starts to put a little speed into it, really getting going with Crowbar on the couch. The only sounds are Crowbar’s moans and the sound of flesh on flesh as Quarters starts moving faster, each thrust in getting him a little deeper than the last, his cock fitting nearly perfectly into Crowbar’s ass. 

The first time Crowbar rocks back onto Quarters, it catches him off guard and he fucks up the pacing for a moment, stopping for a few seconds to figure out what’s going on. By the time Crowbar shoves back a second time, all his teeth showing as he grits them, Quarters just gives out a loud, pleased “Ha!”, followed by another deep thrust in. Looks like Crowbar needed this more than he wanted to admit. “You fucking like it, huh?” 

“Just s-shut up and keep doing what you’re doing.” Even when he’s on the bottom, he ends up being bossy. For once, Quarters sorta likes it. He’s not snapping orders, just rocking back up into Quarters and panting real good. He groans the way Quarters likes and Quarters starts grunting with each hard thrust in, burying himself in that tight ass. He’s not much for dirty talk but he feels like maybe if he was better at it, he’d want to be doing it now. Quarters could tell Crowbar how fucking great he looks on his knees and how good his ass feels, and that the fact they’re doing this out in the open is a massive fucking turn on. “That’s- ah, fuck, Quarters, that’s good. Keep it up.” 

He opens his beak, thinking about telling Crowbar how much he wants to fuck ‘em over the breakfast table downstairs and get him loud enough for every last fucker to hear, then clicks it shut again. Nah, that might ruin the mood and he’s hard enough that he doesn’t want that. Instead he just leans in, pressing his front to Crowbar’s back and thrusting in deep as he can possibly go, right down to the base of his cock. Crowbar makes the most fucking amazing noise, this huge strangled moan, and then he’s clawing at the cushions, his face shoved right into them. 

“You fit like a glove,” he says and as Crowbar squeezes tight around him, Quarters’ cock twitches hard. He gets moving again, but he doesn’t pull back deep, settling for shallow thrusts that keep most of his shaft inside of Crowbar. Quarters gets a hand under Crowbar, gripping him and stroking his dick hard and fast. “Just like a glove.” 

“Shut up, don’t talk about gloves right now. Can you just- fuck!” Crowbar’s panting, his face red as Quarters’ beak presses into his cheek. He moves just the right away underneath Quarters, hips turned up to meet Quarters’ thrusts and thrusting back and forth between the shaft and the hand around him. Crowbar’s eyes flutter open as he comes over Quarters’ hand and he didn’t even see that coming. He’s like a vice, his ass squeezing and pulling Quarters into him, and he keeps making shuddery moans as he empties into Quarters’ palm. 

Quarters wipes his hand off on the couch, ignoring the irritated sound Crowbar makes, and then gets two hands on Crowbar’s hips again as he straightens up and fucks the shit out of him. He’s close but he’s not quite there, and he keeps fucking Crowbar until they’re both a sweaty mess, Crowbar’s mouth hanging open and his breath coming out in sharp huffs. Quarters is right behind him, his grunts getting louder and louder until he feels his whole body tense up in anticipation. 

When he comes, he snaps his mouth shut to keep from being too loud and slams deep into Crowbar, his cock pulsing hard. It feels so fucking good and he stays there, letting Crowbar’s ass tighten around him and squeeze out every last drop of cum. 

He reaches out, grabbing hold of the back of the couch and using it as leverage when he pulls out of Crowbar and leans back, letting out a satisfied sigh. That was exactly what they both needed. Crowbar doesn’t get up right away, his ass still pointing up in the air, and Quarters gives it a friendly slap. “You did fine.” 

“Oh, thanks,” Crowbar groans, slowly turning over on his side, and then sitting up as well. Quarters gets settled on the couch again, in no hurry to get his clothes on when he feels this good. He’s so satisfied right now, all his body feeling in a good daze. Crowbar looks like he’s feeling it too, just lounging back against the couch. 

They’re quiet for a while and it’s pretty good, though Crowbar doesn’t get moving, and Quarters starts hearing that warning bell in his head. Crowbar’s only ever been in charms with Matchsticks and far as Quarters knows, he doesn’t hook up with anyone else, so maybe he doesn’t know that he’s supposed to be leaving now. 

“You uh… you were right. I really needed that,” Crowbar admits, looking sheepish as he breaks the silence. He picks his glass back up and pours himself some more and Quarters has to bite back a sound of annoyance. Quarters was right - Crowbar didn’t understand how to do a hook-up. Fucking wasn’t an invitation to stick around, just like saying ‘you?’ hadn’t been an invitation to sit down and actually talk about shit. “I think I’ve been afraid of doing this… the uh, conversation and drinking, and the uh. The sex. Maybe I should work more on that. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know the rest of the Felt better.” 

“Hmm.” Quarters says. Fuck. He could get dressed and leave but then he’d have to get dressed and leave and he doesn’t want that. He’s comfortable where he is. Quarters wants Crowbar to leave. “Sure.” 

Crowbar nods and drinks his drink, then quickly adds, “Not that I want to have sex with the others. Any of the others. That- not that I’m planning on doing that often with you either. It was nice though, but-” 

He really needs Crowbar to leave, right now, before the idiot says something stupid like think that this thing was anything more than just a quick pity fuck to pick him up and make him stop whining. Quarters could be rude but he knows that’s just going to fucking backfire, and he wants this to be the kind of solution where he doesn’t have to deal with any sort of drama and Crowbar avoids him. 

So Quarters does something desperate. He leans over, throwing an arm around Crowbar and tugs him in close. “Y’wanna talk about a charm for us?”

“I- what? A charm?” Crowbar says and his voice gets a little too high at the end. 

“Yeah, like fucking horseshoes or something. I ain’t picky.” He’s grinning as Crowbar quickly bolts out of his arm and off the couch, getting dressed like his ass has been set on fire. He doesn’t even bother to button up his shirt as Quarters keeps talking, having to fight hard not to let any laughter into his voice. That would ruin everything. “Dunno what you want but I’m thinking something long term.” 

“Uh well, I’m. Not sure I want to go down that road just yet. Not that I don’t appreciate the offer. That’s nice of you. But… no. Just. No. So I’ll… yeah.” Crowbar scurries out of the room. Soon as the door closes, Quarters barks with laughter. Looks like that solved that. Nobody in the Felt Mansion was more charm-avoidant than Crowbar. 

Quarters leans back on the couch, puts his arms behind his head and just relaxes. Finally, some peace and fucking quiet. Though he’ll have to get Scratch to do something about the fucking stain on it, because Quarters isn’t sitting in jizz when he wants to drink on his own.


End file.
